


the writing on the wall

by orphan_account



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Soulmate AU, also fyi zoe doesnt have a soulmate jareds is in canada and alanas soulmate is fukn ME, also this is Absolutely inspired by that one rly good meremy fic for be more chill, i will literally do it i will make a bg self insert so i can be alanas fucking soulmate ILL DO IT
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-12 13:24:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11162757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Soulmates were always one of those things that Evan thought is a cool concept but just doesn't seem realistic. After all, his mom's "soulmate" left when Evan was 8, so that really set the example for him and implanted the fear in his head that, wow, okay, despite what everyone says, it's entirely possible for your soulmate to not like you. It's entirely possible to not be good enough to be loved. Still, it's nice to fool himself into thinking that he will be, even when the only thing that appears on his skin for months at a time are the occasional grocery list or maybe a doodle on his thumb if he's lucky.And Connor Murphy? Well, he doesn't have a soulmate. He knows he doesn't because who the fuck would ever love him? Further proof: His skin, pale as ever, completely empty of any writing other than his own small doodles or little reminders to himself. He hates it, so he decorates his own skin. No, not with ink or paint, no, he chooses scars because those mar the blank space he hates so much and don't give him the false hope that he'll get a response.AU where, when you write on your skin, the writing transfers to your soulmate's skin too.





	1. buy milk. find paintbrushes.

**Author's Note:**

> why am i starting a new tree bros fic when i still have yet to finish A State of Affairs?? cuz i hate myself n love tree bros what more do u want from me

The writing on Evan’s arms has always been scarce and never really directed at him, which, honestly, he’s not too upset about. Jared had always criticized him for having (and being) an absent soulmate, but Evan wouldn’t even know what he’d say if his soulmate tried to write to him. He'd fall short, his soulmate would be disappointed, and then he'll follow in his mom's footsteps and be that sad soul who writes desperate letters on every inch of their skin, all of which fall on deaf ears.

 

So, most of the time, Evan takes solace in the blankness in his skin.

 

But sometimes, in the inky darkness of midnight, the tears will just pour over as he stares hard at the milky skin of his forearm, doubting the very existence of his soulmate. But then he’ll wake up the next morning to a to-do list on his arm or some small stars on his ankle, and the anxiety in his chest eases away slightly.

 

As soon as he’s awake enough to be lucid, Evan decides it’s a bad day. His head pounds as he sits up and blinks blearily, glancing down at his arms out of habit.

 

 _‘Buy milk. Find paintbrushes. Buy new charger. Clean out car,’_ his forearm reads, the first mark he'd seen in about 2 months and 13 days. Not that he was keeping track.

 

Huh, paintbrushes. Usually, he’d be elated to find out some new clue about his soulmate’s hobbies and personality, but today, he really can't care less.

 

After all, it’s not like his soulmate would even like him in the end. It’s all just wishful thinking, and somehow the universe will turn this whole system it had created in the first place into a shitshow for him, like always. It's all some conspiracy that he won't fit into, and he'll feel shitty and life will be shitty and everything's shitty always.

 

He brushes his teeth and hair, pulls on some jeans and a polo that he hopes are clean, throws on a jacket and his backpack, and heads out for school before he can doubt himself too much and crawl back into bed.

 

His feet fall easily into their routine.

 

Stand alone at the bus stop. Get on the empty bus, and take that one seat in the very back that can only hold 1 person. Listen to music and get lost in thoughts for the next 30 minutes it takes to get to school.

 

Walk around the school (but never going into the same hallway he’d already walked down out of fear of looking lost to passersby). Walk to first period long before the first bell’s supposed to ring.

 

Sit. Wait. Pay attention.

 

Walk to second period alone.

 

Sit. Wait. Pay attention.

 

Walk to third period alone.

 

Sit. Wait. Pay attention.

 

Walk to lunch alone and immediately duck into the bathroom. Spend the whole lunch sitting in a stall and playing some game on his phone.

 

Walk to fourth alone.

 

Sit. Wait. Pay attention.

 

Walk to bus loop with Jared.

 

Jared’s telling him about what he’s going to do over the weekend, some convention he’s going to, but Evan’s too lost in his head to pay attention until Jared yells, “Hey, Connor!” and drags out the last syllable in a way that Evan knows means trouble.

 

The so-called Connor turns around, and Evan pales. Evan can tell with just one look that this isn’t just some pal of Jared’s.

 

Evan wants to reach out a hand to stop him, he knows Jared’s gonna go too far, but the boy’s already striding away before he works up the courage to do so.

 

“Loving the new hair length! Very school shooter chic,” Jared grins wickedly, stopping just a few steps short of Connor.

 

Evan nervously lingers in the background, only coming closer so he isn’t swept away in the crowd of kids. He wants to be there for damage control, in case Jared needs to get carried to the nurse when this kid breaks his nose.

 

“I was just kidding, it was a joke,” Jared’s grin flickers, and Evan gulps because he can feel the tension mounting as Connor's eyes never waver from Jared's face. He takes a hesitant step closer, trying his hardest not to be seen or get involved.

 

“No, it was funny, I’m laughing, can't you tell?” Flames flare up in Connor’s eyes but his expression is schooled into a blank expression, which is even scarier then if he was flat-out mad because now Evan’s not sure when the dam’s gonna break loose, “Am I not laughing hard enough for you?”

 

“You’re such a freak, dude,” Jared shakes his head and walks off without another word, and Evan’s heart thuds out a beat against his chest because now he’s alone. With Connor. Somebody he doesn't know at all but someone he just watched get mocked.

 

Maybe Evan should chase after Jared but he doesn't want Connor thinking he's like Jared, maybe he should apologize but then it'll sound fake and awkward, maybe he should strike up a conversation but he doesn't even know what he'd even say, maybe he should say something bad about Jared to get the kid talking but Evan doesn't really want to insult the one person who'll give him the time of day.

 

Before he can realize it, he huffs out a nervous laugh, purely because he doesn’t know what else to do, but Connor’s head spins toward him. Evan’s heart completely stops and his expression drops.

 

“What the fuck are you laughing at?”

 

So much for not getting involved.

 

“What?” Evan blinks hard, now even more unsure of what to do.

 

“Stop fucking laughing at me,” Chills run down Evan’s spine as Connor steps forward.

 

“W-What? No, I’m not--”

 

“You think I’m a freak?” Connor pushes away his coat and starts walking towards Evan faster.

 

“I-I-I d-don’t,” Evan stutters out, frozen to the spot, even as Connor shoves him to the ground and yells “I’m not the freak! You're the fucking freak!” and storms off.

 

But Evan doesn’t care about any of that as he pushes himself up on shaky arms that can hardly hold his weight.

 

No, no, he’s got much bigger things on his mind because right now, his brain is buzzing loudly at him as he tries to wrap his mind around what had just happened. His breath heaves frantically as his eyes unfocus, only one thing running through his brain over and over and over and over.

 

As Connor was stepping forward and shoving him, 2 seconds was all it took for Connor’s coat sleeve to ride up, and frantic scribbles on his arm to catch Evan’s eye.

 

 _‘Buy milk. Find pai’_ was all that had peeked out from underneath the sleeve, but it was enough.

 

It really is a bad day.


	2. how to avoid your soulmate for the rest of your sad, pathetic, short life

 

The only distraction Evan gets on the bus ride is the sudden reminder that, in the midst of all that shit with Connor, he’d forgotten to stop by the computer lab to print out a letter for Dr. Sherman. Maybe he could bullshit it and hand-write one before his appointment today, but even he knows that’s not gonna happen because, even though he’s trying his best to focus on what he’ll write in the letter, Connor and the _‘buy milk. find pai’_ always end up coming back to the front of his brain.

 

The whole situation makes him so dizzy he almost misses his bus stop until the kid across the aisle accidentally nudges his foot and he’s snapped back to reality just as the bus is about to move again. He leaps to his feet and ignores the accusing glares as he rushes down the aisle, awkward apologies spilling from his mouth as he bumps into everybody unfortunate enough to have an aisle seat today.

 

Thankfully, his mom isn’t home when he walks in, so he shuffles to his room, chest feeling tight, and drops his backpack and kicks off his shoes.

 

Impulsively, he grabs a pen off his desk and holds it above an empty spot on the back of his hand, but right as he’s about to write something, _anything_ , he stops.

 

And overthinks. And overthinks.

 

And overthinks and overthinks and overthinks until his pen is snapped in half and there’s ink on his jeans and there’s tears streaming down his face and when did he end up on the ground?

 

He uses his desk to prop himself up so that he’s standing. Shaky, sure, but standing and not a complete emotional mess on the ground. The thought of that is enough to spur him to step forward so that he can stop being a child and be a complete emotional mess in _bed_ like any mature adult would do.

 

For the first time today, his mind silences to just white noise, but it’s growing in volume, louder and louder with each moment, and it’s maddening, but Evan supposes it’s better than those eerie whispers in the back of his brain that _you’re lonely, your soulmate now hates you, no one would care if you did it, you take up too much space, you should just ki--_

 

A shudder wracks through his body.

 

He turns onto his side, shoves his face into the pillow, and forces himself into a dreamless sleep.

 

What feels like days later, Evan’s being gently shaken, and he jerks awake. It takes a couple seconds to feel like a real human being but when he does, he glances at the clock (only 2 hours since he fell asleep) and back at Heidi, who’s currently taking a couple steps back towards his door.

 

“C’mon, honey, it’s time to go,” She says with a gentle, tired smile before stepping out of the room.

 

Evan jumps out of bed and throws open his backpack, tearing through his folders and notebooks, searching desperately for his letter, where’d he put it? He knows he wrote it, he’s been pretty good about remembering to write--

 

Then the memory of what happened with Connor and the milk and the paintbrushes and forgetting to visit the computer lab hits him like a brick wall and he feels dread wash over him.

 

So, instead, he slips on his shoes, changes out of his now ink-stained jeans into a clean pair, and trudges out to the car, empty-handed and unable to look at his mom.

 

“Sorry I didn’t wake you sooner, but you just looked so calm, you know?” Heidi says warmly as she turns the key.

 

“It’s fine,” Evan mumbles out, which catches her attention. When she glances at him, her eyes linger far longer than Evan prefers.

 

“Hun, don’t forget your letter for Dr. Sherman.”

 

He opens his mouth but nothing comes out, so he clears his throat and tries again, “I-I don’t have one this week.”

 

He stares down into his lap so he doesn’t have to see when Heidi’s face falls.

 

“They’re supposed to help build confidence, Evan, get you into some healthier habits. That can’t happen if you don’t write them,” She says gentler than Evan wants. Why can’t she just be a normal parent and be mad instead of concerned? He can deal with anger. Anger’s a passing emotion. Concern shows that she believes he can get better, but God, no, he can’t, he can’t get better, this is who he is: broken and nervous and worthless.

 

Of course, he doesn’t voice any of this, just keeps his eyes locked on the scratched letters on arm.

 

_Buy milk. Find paintbrushes. Buy new charger. Clean out car._

 

They feel more like an epitaph than a line of communication.

 

Therapy sucks, like usual. Dr. Sherman looks disappointed about Evan’s missing letter but in that terrible _‘I’m upset but I’m going to try to act like I’m not’_ sort of way, Evan doesn’t dare mention Connor, and manages to get through the whole session with little to no crying, so he considers that a success.

 

The ride home is tired and quiet, neither mother nor son feeling the need to talk, and Heidi’s already leaving for work as soon as he takes a step in the front door.

 

Evan collapses against the couch and lays there for Lord knows how long, staring at the wall.

 

With a sigh, he pushes himself into a sitting position and reaches for the TV remote on the coffee table but his hand hovers in the space between the couch and the coffee table.

 

His eyes are locked onto the thick black line forming on the tip of index finger, blooming into some swirly doodle. Once the pad of the finger is filled, it swoops down and swirls down and stops just short of the palm. There’s a pause, then purple starts to add onto the line.

 

Evan finally snaps out of the entranced state he’d been in from watching the art form on his finger.

 

He hates the doodles. He doesn’t want to look at it. He wants to wash it off but then Connor would probably get upset at his anonymous soulmate -- _years of silence, only for him to wash off what I finally decided to decorate myself with? What an asshole._

Evan’s already scratching the skin on the back of his hand nervously before he can even yank his hand back.

 

Just short of him breaking skin, he sends Jared a message on Facebook, a simple _‘hey’_ just to spark a conversation so he can forget about this whole mess.

 

Minutes pass of him tapping his thumb on the side of the phone impatiently.

 

He makes a little noise in the back of his throat, one akin to a grumble and a sigh, then exits their messages and just starts scrolling through the website.

 

Somehow, Zoe had accepted his friend request ages ago, so it's moreso out of habit than actual interest when he catches himself going to check her profile. He shrugs and decides to go for it (not to stalk or anything, just because he’s interested in her life….that he actively doesn’t participate in…...okay, maybe it’s _kinda_ stalking).

 

A couple vague statuses about jazz band or inside jokes with her friends, all posts of which he carefully makes sure to avoid liking.

 

It’s completely by accident that he stumbles across Connor’s profile. Because, of course, he finds that. It’s already obvious that it all comes back to Connor now that he’s met him.

 

It had been a photoset that Zoe’s mom had tagged Zoe in, some family gathering for a holiday or birthday or other. Most of the pictures were just of people Evan couldn’t recognize for the life of him. But then there was one picture amidst the 20+, Evan stopped as soon as he saw it.

 

The focus of the picture was Zoe sitting cross-legged with some little girl sitting on the arm of the couch, both of them laughing, but Evan’s eyes are drawn to the other end of the couch where Connor sat, long legs sprawled out in front of him and his eyes locked on the phone in his hand. His expression was that same blocked-off one he wore last time Evan had seen him but the way his eyebrows are pinched together exposes his discomfort.

 

It doesn’t quite process for Evan until a few minutes later and tosses his phone on the other end of his own couch because what the _fuck_ , _Connor_ is related to _Zoe_?

 

Out of all the people it had to be, his soulmate had to be the brother of his ex-crush. His ex-crush had to be sister of his soulmate.

 

What the _fuck_.

 

He lets loose a shaky breath and picks up his phone again, staring at the picture.

 

Evan’s face contorts as some feeling seizes in his chest, one that he can’t really put his finger on. He can’t decide whether it’s a good feeling or not.

 

Without thinking about it, he taps on Connor’s profile and sends him a friend request, then pales as he realizes what he just did.

 

What was Connor going to think? _‘Oh, that asshole I assaulted’s sending me a friend request, what a pathetic fucking loser.’_

 

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

 

Evan runs a hand over his face as he opens up Safari on his phone.

 

No websites yield the results he wants when he searches up ‘ _how to avoid your soulmate for the rest of your sad, pathetic, short life_ _’_.

 

Jared still hasn’t responded by the time Evan passes out on the couch, phone still on in his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so in other news i want will connolly and mike faist to eat my Entire Ass just sayin  
> also CONGRATS TO EVERYBODY IN THE DEH CAST THAT WON A TONY!!!!!!!!!!!! IM SO PROUD OF MY BABIESSSS ; o ;  
> also my tumblr is @bigbeefyladies in case u wanna, like, PM me a picture of richard goranski idk  
> leave a comment or whatever!! itll validate my existence n all that, ykno the deal.  
> ALSO!!!!!!! ily n thank u so much for reading :'^)

**Author's Note:**

> this first chapter is rly shitty n short but i just wanted 2 get the idea out there n all that  
> my tumblr is @bigbeefyladies so if u wanna hmu on there or make fanart or anything, u kno where to go  
> n as always, leave a comment 2 validate my existence pls i dont get paid 4 this stuff, all i get is the satisfaction of reading yalls comments bleas n thanku


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